


Nonverbal

by sailortriscuit



Category: The Beatles
Genre: Other, The Beatles - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2016-05-20
Packaged: 2018-06-09 14:06:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6910324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sailortriscuit/pseuds/sailortriscuit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a story that I actually ended up writing in a text message, hence the casual language at the beginning. This is not revised.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nonverbal

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place on an enclosed outdoor porch. Degrees are in Fahrenheit here. (40-50 is chilly)   
> Written in first(?) person because I was talking about myself, but obviously take your time reading and adjust the visual to fit yourself. Enjoy!

Ugh I want to sit on an enclosed outdoor porch with george in the late summer at night when it's like 40 /50 degrees and light some candles and sit with our (my) little potted plants and cacti and I'll look out the screen for the last lightning bugs and smelling the clean cold air with a quilt around me while george is lighting his cigarette at the same time as incense (something I showed him) and he sits down on our outdoor couch and extends & crosses his long legs on our small coffee table and blows smoke in the air behind me. The smell of smoke from two sources, both sweet in their own ways, mixes with the earthy smell of the plants and the energizing, refreshing flow of air from the outside. I hear one of the forest cats i feed is sitting outside the screen door eating up the last few pieces of kibble left from this morning. George watches me, relaxed as I open the door a crack and pet the top of the felines head, and it walks away. I close the door and, without any talking, I set the blanket down over the back of the couch and wrap my arms around George's neck from behind. He leans his head back and smiles with his mouth and eyes closed. I briefly rest my chin on his head before straightening up and squeezing his shoulders & neck, massaging out some of the tension for a few seconds as a gesture of friendly intimacy and affection. That's when I walk around and lay down on the couch and lay my head in his lap, looking up at him and studying his familiar features. He takes another drag of his cigarette and places it in my mouth so I can follow suit. I do, and as I blow a cloud of smoke away, he grins his perfectly formed smile at me and blinks once slowly and he's moving as if he's laughing silently. I smile a crooked smile and raise one eyebrow inquisitively as if to ask "what's so funny?" but I used no words. His nonverbal response was simply a small shake of the head. He puts out the cigarette in the ashtray that rests on the arm of the couch and brings his hand to my cheek. He gently strokes my face and smooths my hair; my eyes are closed. I wouldn't have seen it, but his eyes closed as well and he took a long, deep breath, taking in the same sweetness I was savoring. I shivered and he felt it; he spread the blanket out over my body and rested his (perfect) hand on my farthest shoulder. We laid there together in the candlelight and the light of our love.


End file.
